Unexpected Night (19 page)

“Very decent of you,” Sanderson was telling Wilks. “Mrs. Cowden appreciates it.”

Gamadge read the letters through a second time. Then he put them in his pocket, nodded to Sanderson, and drifted away. He walked up the stairs quietly enough, but when he reached his own room, his demeanour altered. He whistled piercingly as he changed into tweeds, brushed his hair, and put on brown shoes. Then he glanced out of the window at the pearly haze which had now risen high above the horizon, seized a topcoat and a soft hat, and ran down three flights of stairs to the café in the basement.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

M
ITCHELL SAT WAITING
for him at a small table between the window and the door. Several people stood at the bar counter, Doctor and Mrs. Baines among them; but no other table was occupied. Gamadge asked: “Have you searched the Cowden car yet?”

“Yes. Not a thing in it but road maps and Sanderson's driving licence, and a squashed packet of cigarettes.”

“Who has the keys?”

“I just sent 'em up to Sanderson. How's Miss Cowden, after her accident?”

“You heard about that, did you?”

“It's all over the beach. I understand the story came from the caddie house.”

“I wasn't sure that Norman had taken it in; at the time, he seemed more or less to accept it as part of the hazards of the game.”

“Your caddie, was he?”

“He was engaged as a caddie—Class X, I should say. I haven't seen Miss Cowden since we got home. She was considerably upset just after it happened, but she's had a visit from Baines, and I dare say she's better. Look here, Mitchell; could you put a man on the Cowden car for the rest of the night?”

“Put a man on it?”

Gamadge had remained standing. He now ordered an old-fashioned from the waiter, and asked Mitchell if he wanted a drink.

“Don't use 'em, thanks.”

“Then we'll just have two suppers. Two suppers, Mickey. There isn't any choice down here in the grill, you know, Mitchell; we take what they give us, and it's always good.”

“Anything suits me. What do you mean,” enquired Mitchell again, when Mickey had gone, “putting a man on the Cowden car?”

Gamadge sat down and leaned forward. “It's this way: that car might very well have to go out tonight on an errand. I'd feel very much happier if I knew a state policeman would trail it, on a motorcycle.”

Mitchell, greatly puzzled, stared at him for some time in silence. Then he said: “That business on the golf course got you scared, did it?”

“I was considerably scared.”

“But if Mrs. Cowden sent the car out, Sanderson would be driving it; and he probably wouldn't be going any further than Oakport, if she wanted something from the drug store.”

“Oakport would be much too far for Mr. Sanderson to drive alone.”

“You think even
Sanderson's
in some kind of danger?”

“I'm convinced he is.”

“I could get hold of a man, but I'd have to have a good reason for giving him the job. I have two fellers already up at the Cove.”

“I'll give you the reason as soon as I'm sure of it myself. If you can't put the trooper on, I'll have to stay at home and do it myself, and I don't know how.”

Mitchell, still gazing at him doubtfully, rose slowly from his chair.

“When you come back, I have some telegrams to show you,” said Gamadge. “Harold has done his best to justify his existence.”

Mitchell went out, and was gone until Gamadge had finished his old-fashioned, and the waiter had brought clam chowders. Nothing was said until these had been sampled; Mitchell then glanced about the café, convinced himself that he could not be overheard by the occupants of the nearest table (who happened to be the Baineses), and said grumblingly:

“I got hold of Loomis. He's going down to the garage now. I don't suppose there's any reason for him keeping under cover?”

“None at all, if you don't object to making Sanderson nervous. There may be nothing in my little notion, you know; shame to get the wind up these people unnecessarily.”

“It's getting so foggy, Loomis might miss him if he didn't stick pretty close.”

“Well, I'm greatly obliged to you. Here are Harold's communications; as I told you, he revels in the cryptic; I couldn't imagine what Wilks meant, when he talked about a club.”

Mitchell read the day letters while the clam chowder bowls were removed and the hot boiled lobster substituted. They ran as follows:

GAMADGE, OCEAN HOUSE, FORD'S BEACH, MAINE

CALLED UP WELLS GRUBY MISS CADWALLADER
ABOUT CLUB YOU ARE INTERESTED IN ALSO SAW
TOWN TALK THOMPSON AND BACK FILES PUBLIC
LIBRARY ALL AGREE IT IS OLD WELLKNOWN
SOCIAL CONCERN BUT SLIPPING FINANCIALLY
SINCE NINETEEN FOURTEEN EXCEPT PARIS
BRANCH WHICH CLOSED DOWN YEARS AGO STOP
MEMBERS HIGH-TONED MORE COMING LATER
H. BANTZ

GAMADGE, FORD'S BEACH

SAW BIGGS AND CAROLINE CADE RE CLUB
MEMBERSHIP NO PUBLICITY NO SCANDALS
SINCE NINETEEN EIGHT WHEN MEMBER ELOPED
WITH ACTOR SHE WAS THROWN OUT OF CLUB
AND SOCIAL REGISTER HER SON NOT ELIGIBLE
WELL-KNOWN ON SMALL TIME AS FEMALE
IMPERSONATOR MARRIED FLORENCE FALLS MORE
COMING

H. BANTZ

“My, my.” Mitchell folded the telegrams, and handed them back. “I don't know how I can wait for the rest of it.”

“You don't sound as if you found Harold's researches interesting.”

“They don't tell us much we didn't know, do they?”

“The little more, and how much it is. Any objection to Hoskins spending the night in Room 22?”

“No, but the sheriff may not want to pay his bill.”

“I'll see that it's paid.”

“Since he's here as the Cowdens' bodyguard, they ought to pay it.”

“Perhaps they will. How did the fingerprinting come out?”

“Amberley Cowden's were all over the fittings in the dressing case. There wasn't another print in the room, except yours and mine.”

“You don't say!”

“That tells a story, don't it? Looks as if somebody got into that room ahead of us, and did considerable wiping up afterwards.”

“Or wore gloves.”

“The boy may never have taken his off; they were on when Sam saw him. These French fried potatoes go pretty good with the lobster, don't they?”

Gamadge nodded, with his mouth full. He took a swallow of coffee, and said: “The will wasn't in the dressing case, then.”

“I bet anything he had it on him.”

They had reached the asparagus course when Doctor Baines came across the room, flapped them back into their seats with a large hand, and sat down at the table. He rumbled:

“Sorry to interrupt you; I'm going back to my own dessert in a minute. They had me back at that mortuary of yours, Mitchell, to look at the actress.”

“So I heard, Doctor; we appreciate it.”

“Your man Cogswell's a very good man, and all I did was corroborate his findings. Those pills were quarter-grain morphia tablets, and you'll find she took enough to kill her. Not much doubt that she died of an overdose of morphia. There was an abscessed tooth. We can't seem to find out who prescribed. May have to advertise.”

“So I hear.”

“She was dead by two this morning, and so was the boy. He died of his myocarditis, just as we all knew he would. You going to keep his family up here, till you find out why he climbed up on that cliff?”

“We don't want to put them to unnecessary trouble.”

“They ought to get away from the place. I suppose the money situation bothers you.”

“He did die right quick after he got it.”

“He did.”

“And I understand that somebody tried to kill his sister right after she got it,” said Mitchell, calmly eating asparagus.

“I am inclined to diagnose that case as accident.” Baines glanced at Gamadge, and went on: “I have been acquainted with the hazards of this golf course for thirty years. There are three people who might conceivably be supposed to have a motive for assassinating little Alma Cowden: the elder Barclays, her cousin Fred Barclay, and her other cousin, Arthur Atwood. He's an extravert, and he used to be an egomaniac; I never heard that he was an out-and-out damned fool. Lulu Barclay's a silly woman, and she's spoiled young Fred; I shouldn't have thought there was any harm in either of 'em. These people are having their lawyer up, you know.”

“So I heard.”

Mickey took away the asparagus, and brought strawberries. Baines waited until he left, and then went on:

“Ormville's a sound man, high reputation, big family practice; I doubt if he could handle this situation. I've known Harrison Barclay all my life, and I'm fond of the old fool. Shall I get hold of a first-rate criminal lawyer for him? Get him up here for the inquest?”

“No need to worry about it just yet, Doctor. I'll keep you posted.”

Baines lumbered to his feet. “I'm going over tomorrow, as a friend of the family.”

“Glad to have you.”

“What's your standing in this business?” Baines turned abruptly to Gamadge, who answered blandly:

“The same as yours, Doctor, if I may say so without impertinence. I've been called in unofficially—as an expert.”

“Oh.” He went back to his table, and Mitchell said:

“That reminds me; when are you going to do some expert work on that ink? To-morrow morning?”

“Delighted; if you still want me to. We'd better be on our way, I think. It's going to be a foggy trip. Meet you in the lobby in ten minutes.”

The atmosphere of Room 22 was peaceful. Hoskins' collar was off, and he was in his shirtsleeves. He sat devouring a substantial-looking dinner, his table being so placed that he could see Mrs. Cowden's door, and seven-eighths of Miss Cowden's.

“Where's your disguise?” asked Gamadge.

“They took it back again. I guess the other porter must have come; I hear there's a lot of folks checking in to-night.”

“You don't need it. Keep awake, now; send down for more coffee, if you need it. I'll be back before 11:30, I should think.”

“I ain't sleepy,” protested Hoskins. “Had a nice nap.”

“We heard you having it.”

“When?”

“When we came in from golf. Heard you snoring like mad, through the transom.”

“Well, I had to keep it open. These land-side rooms are awful hot.”

“A corner one shouldn't be.”

“What's that state trooper doin' down at the garage?”

“Watching over you. See you later.”

As he passed Room 19 on his way down the corridor to the stairs, he heard a low voice call him by name. He stopped, and turned.

“Hello,” he said, just above a whisper.

“Hello. Will you come in a minute?”

“What did you say?”

“I said, please come in.” The crack in the door widened.

Gamadge cast a hunted look up and down the corridor; Hoskins was eyeing him, with apparent detachment, over the rim of a coffee cup; otherwise there was no one in sight. Gamadge slipped through the doorway. Miss Alma Cowden stood just within, a neat dark-blue tailored dressing gown over her dark-blue pyjamas; they looked at each other, while Gamadge put a hand behind him and closed the door.

“I had to see you,” she told him.

“Well; trouble is, these business conferences in hotel bedrooms are so apt to leak out. It's almost a law. Would your aunt care for this?”

“She can't hear. She's lying down, and both the bathroom doors are shut. I locked them, too.”

“That makes it perfect.”

“And nobody will come except Waldo or Peabody, with my dinner tray. They wouldn't say anything.”

“But how embarrassing for you, to have Waldo or Peabody going around not saying anything.”

“I can't help it. I couldn't wait. Mr. Gamadge,” she turned a pale, determined face up to him, “I've changed my mind about that money. I'm not going to give those legacies to those people.”

“Oh; aren't you, though?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Want me to go around telling them so?”

“No, I can let them know later. Mr. Gamadge, I'm not going to keep any of that money.”

Gamadge studied her face, keeping his own blank. At last he said: “You mean the million you're getting from your brother's estate?”

“Yes. How can I give it all away?”

“But,
querida di mi alma
! That's a fearful lot of money to toss out of the window. What's your reason?” As she did not answer, he went on: “Plenty of good ones, of course; let's see; do you want to marry some young man who won't have a rich wife? Nonsense. You can persuade him to let you keep it; just work on him a little. Or perhaps you're thinking of going into a nunnery; don't do it, you're not the type.” She said nothing, and he went on after a moment: “Or are you still brooding about that golf ball? Still afraid somebody's going to bump you off? I should say they would be much more likely to do it, if they knew you were planning to give all the money away. Why don't you keep them guessing till you're of age?”